


Car Problems on Christmas

by WakeUpDreaming



Series: Holla to the Holidays: December 2015 Collection [16]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bed & Breakfast, Broken Down Car, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Desk clerk!Happy, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way to family Christmas, Toby's car breaks down during a storm of sleet and rain. Two miles down the road he finds a bed and breakfast, only to meet a desk clerk who seems incredibly disenchanted with her job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Problems on Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for stark-raving-mad-hatter's holiday prompt "Quintis with the “my car broke down on this mountain pass but thankfully there’s this remote shelter where i can drink something hot… holy shit the owner is hotter” au please"

Toby kicks his car door closed, beginning to wish he’d gone for high quality instead of low pricing. It’s thirty two degrees flat and the precipitation is a mixture of sleet, snow, and rain, soaking him to the bone in the thirty seconds he’s outside of the car.

He opens the hood and takes a look, and his best guess is that something’s just…wrong.

Maybe this is the universe telling him that a Christmas visit to his parents was a bad idea after all.

His jacket is soaked to his body, doing nothing to warm him or dry him, so he gives up and makes his way down the desolate road. There has to be something within a few miles, or else he’s going to freeze. All Toby is hoping for is a gas station – that’s it.

When he sees a tiny little building, something like a bed and breakfast or a motel, he’s convinced it’s a mirage.

"Thank you, baby Jesus," he says as he reaches the walkway leading toward the door. His hands are numb as he opens the door, shaking the water off of his hair.

“Can you do that outside?” says the person sitting at the front desk. “It’s wet enough out there – we’re trying to keep this place dry.”

“Sorry,” Toby says, looking up. And there sits a woman with the most disinterested expression on her face Toby's ever seen. Her boots are up on the reception desk like a wall between her and the outside world. Toby also noticed, though, that she's pretty. 

“You want a room?” she asks, as little enthusiasm as humanly possible.

Toby nods. “Uh, just for the afternoon,” he clarifies. “Or if I could just use a bathroom?”

Her eyebrow rises. “No public bathrooms,” she says like a mantra.

He nods, accepting the fact that he’s probably going to be shelling out at least fifty bucks to get himself dry before calling for a tow truck.

“You’ve got a name?” she asks.

“Tobias Curtis,” Toby replies, frowning at the puddle on the floor. “Hold on, I’m dripping.”

He pushes open the door again and peels off the jacket, practically ringing it out on their welcome mat. His grey shirt is drenched underneath the jacket, and the half frozen fabric clinging to him is nearly see through.

Great. Another perfect addition to today. He looks like he just lost a wet tee shirt contest.

The surprise on the desk clerk’s face makes him wonder if he was wrong. It was just a shadow of interested surprise, but very quickly she fades into apathy again.

She shifts, kicking her boots off the desk, and turns to the computer. “Room 10 good?" she asks.

He checks the name plate. “That’s fine, Paige.”

She turns to him, looking confused for a moment.

"Your name tag," Toby clarifies.

“Oh, I’m not Paige,” she says. “I’m just filling in today for her.”

Toby nods. “And your name is?”

“Happy,” she says.

“Well, nice to meet you, Happy,” Toby says, nodding at her.

She drops the key in his hand. “And how long will you we staying here at the bed and breakfast?” Happy asks. The indifference is fading from her voice, that mild interest growing with each word.

“Probably a couple of hours, just to dry off,” Toby admits. “But I’ll pay for –”

“I’ll put you in for, like, half a day,” she says, turning back to the computer.

“You can do that?” Toby asks.

She sends him this half smirk, something that intrigues him just enough to get worried. “I can do a lot of things.” She hits a couple of buttons, gets a grey screen, types over it, and up pops his charge.

“Forty-eight dollars,” Happy says. “But don’t pay now. You’re, uh,” she looks at him, “you’re dripping all over our carpet.”

Toby nods at her gratefully, ready to go take a long shower to drag the cold out of his bones. When he reaches his room he immediately pulls off his drenched shirt. It’s a pile of water at this point, so he throws it in the bathroom, finding nothing but a hand towel to dry himself off with.

He tries to dry off his hair, but it’s a futile attempt, so he checks in the drawers of the bedroom dresser for at least something.

The door creaks open.

“Oh, sorry.”

He turns around at the noise. The desk clerk - Happy, her name is Happy - is looking at him with this sort of half smile on her lips as she hands him a towel. “Didn’t, uh,” the half smile grows, “didn’t mean to barge in. Just wanted to give you some towels.”

Their hands barely touch when Happy hands him the towel, but it’s enough to send a spark down Toby’s spine.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, eyes locked on hers. She breaks away first, stepping backward toward the door.

“Have a good stay,” she says, looking up and down his body in a way Toby can't miss. 

He wants to ask her if she knows a good mechanic, because his car is still on the side of the mountain two miles away, but she darts out of the room before he can even breathe.

Toby showers for longer than necessary, letting the searing heat of the water bring him back to warmth, and steps out of the shower around 5 in the evening. He shoots a text to his mother and cousin to let them know he won't be able to make it that night, then throws his phone somewhere on the bed, not wanting to deal with the backlash.

He’s stuck in a towel until the rest of his clothing is dry, using the dryer with the five dollars in cash he has left. The damn machine eats all the five dollar bills instead of giving back the two fifty in change.

He groans, because two fifty isn’t really that important, but because it’s one easy thing he can complain about right now and he’ll be damned if he won’t do it.

He doesn’t remember that he’s in a towel until he’s at the front desk.

Happy’s eyes go comically wide when he steps into the lobby. “Can I help you?” she asks, looking bewildered.

“Your dryer sucked up my money,” he says, trying to maintain an air of casual indifference, like he walks in front of gorgeous strangers in a towel every day. “Can I get my two dollars and fifty cents back?”

She nods, pulling out the cash register. “I think so,” she says. The register won't open. “Maybe." She presses a couple of buttons. Still nothing. "I have no idea. This isn’t my regular job.”

“Clearly,” Toby says, and she stares at him. He realizes too late how rude it sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Happy rolls her eyes. “Well, I don’t do well with people on a good day. Customer service isn’t my main gig.”

“What is your main gig?” Toby asks. He'd be willing to bet it does not involve talking to people.

“I’m a mechanic,” Happy explains.

Toby’s excitement must have showed on his face, because Happy starts awkwardly laughing.

“What, you’ve got a thing for mechanics?” she asks.

“No, just,” he sighs, beaming. “My car broke down two miles away. Could you take a look at it?”

“And leave my very important post at the front desk?” Happy asks. “Hell yeah, let me get my keys and tools. But uh,” she looks at him, “we should probably wait until you’re wearing clothes.”

Toby feels a blush spread across his entire body. “That’s a good idea.”

His clothes are dry quickly, and he’s dressed and ready to go in twenty minutes.

“You have a car?” he asks.

She nods. “What am I, some New York City person? Of course I have a car.” She jangles her keys at him. “Let’s get going.”

Five minutes. It takes Happy five minutes to figure out the car’s problem and fix it.

"Oil change," Happy says. "You're lucky I carry extra in my car."

"You carry extra oil with you?" Toby asks as she slides under the car to replace the cap.

“You people don’t seem to understand how important it is to actually check your oil,” Happy says, looking annoyed as she rolls out from underneath the car. She’s got oil and grease on her face when she stands up, and Toby offers her the rag that she’d shoved at him. She takes it and wipes off her hands, using the sleeve of her jacket to get at her forehead. All it does is smear the oil more.

“I’ll get that for you,” Toby says, using his thumb to wipe it off.

It may have been the wrong move. Happy’s looking at him like he asked her to buy him a mansion.

“You’re a weird one, Curtis,” she says. Happy checks the car manual, pulls one container of oil from her truck bed, and pours it into the car. "There. Easy as pie."

"For you, maybe," Toby mumbles. He would have covered himself in oil five minutes in.

Happy rolls her eyes at him as she checks the dipstick. “Also, this is what it should look like.” She shows him. “See? Not black. A nice, pretty oil color.”

“I get it, I get it,” Toby says, laughing. “Thanks, though. Thanks a lot.” He puts his hands in his pockets, to surprisingly find them empty. “Oh, crap.”

“What?”

“My wallet,” Toby says. “I left it in the room.”

“You also haven’t paid yet,” says Happy. “As much as I suck at this job, I’m not letting you off that easy.”

“Not even on Christmas?” Toby asks, allowing for a grin.

Happy’s expression is hard. “It’s Christmas Eve,” she corrects.

He sighs. “I thought missing family Christmas would mean I’d avoid bickering.”

“Well, remember to change your oil next time,” Happy says with a mildly condescending grin.

Toby is really annoyed that he finds it attractive.

Happy gets into her car without another word and Toby follows her back to the bed and breakfast.

“So, knowing you’re not a people person,” says Toby as he grabs his wallet, “how’d you end up here on Christmas Eve filling in as a desk clerk?”

“Paige has a kid,” Happy says, “and, even though we had zero reservations for this weekend, our boss Merrick insisted that somebody cover the place. She was going to be stuck here without Ralph for the entire holiday. So, without telling anyone,” Happy shrugs, “I took over for the weekend.”

“Won’t her boss find out?”

Happy scoffs. “Merrick? Please. He hasn’t been here on a holiday or a weekend in four years. No, he’s not showing up. The higher ups get vacations. We don’t.”

“I know how you feel,” he says. “This is my first set of two days off in a row since I was in college. Med school started and, since then, if I get eight hours off to sleep it’s a miracle.”

“Never went to college,” Happy says. “But because I’m a girl I have to work whenever somebody calls me to prove I’m decent. So, no vacations for me.” She rolls her eyes. “Yay, patriarchy.”

Toby laughs.

Their conversation is light and easy until it’s deep and meaningful, words spilling freely from both of their lips as they lose track of time. He finds himself staying until midnight and then even later, because he might as well pay for the night if he’s here into Christmas morning. Happy’s playing bartender at the bed and breakfast’s kitchen table, mixing random drinks that are surprisingly good, even if they do have weird ingredients like ginger beer and crushed cucumber.

Her eyes light up whenever he asks her about the cars she’s worked on, and again in a different way when Toby asks about her family and she manages to tell him, like no one’s ever asked before.

When the conversation turns and she asks him about his mother and father, Toby just groans, the alcohol making his brain loose and open. “Mom’s bipolar, Dad’s a gambling addict. I took after both of them in the worst way.” He looks up at her. “But I guess the whole universe schemed to make me miss Christmas this year, so I’m okay with it.”

She’s got this little half grin. “Yeah,” she says. “Christmas with the family, right?” There's something behind her eyes, like she's missing something or someone.

“You should probably head home, huh,” says Toby. She shouldn't be here with him on Christmas Eve. She should be with her family.

Happy scoffs. “This is the most social Christmas I’ve had since I was about two,” she says. “I’ve got nowhere to be.” She pours two more drinks. "Plus," Happy says with a grin, "I've got somebody here at the bed and breakfast tonight - I can't just leave." Her smile would be impossible to miss. 

They both pass out on lobby couches after four in the morning. They lost count of drinks and, after a couple of shots of fireball, Toby knew there was no way he was going back to his room. The last thing he remembers before falling over on the couch, laughing, is telling Happy, “It tastes like Christmas!”

He wakes up to sun bleeding through the curtains, and his first thought the morning of Christmas is, “Oh, now there’s sun.”

His second thought is that the hangover might kill him.

“Got you some water,” Happy says, standing next to him. She’s got her hair up in a ponytail, but other than that she doesn’t look much different than last night.

“How are you not hungover?” Toby asks, wincing at the sun.

She shrugs. “Got a high alcohol tolerance,” she says. “Plus, I’m not the one who screamed about Christmas while taking shots of fireball.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No,” Happy clarifies. “I took one shot. You took four."

“Oh,” Toby says, his head pounding, “right.”

By the time he’s sitting up, he’s finished his water.

“Hey, I need to pay you for a night,” he says, rubbing at his head. “And for all that alcohol.” He groans. “God, so much alcohol.”

She shrugs. “Alcohol, yes. Night, no. Just the forty-eight from before.”

He manages a smile. “Thanks, Hap.”

He didn’t mean to use a nickname. He’s just so out of energy that two syllable words are a lot of ask right now.

Half an hour later and he’s showered and ready to leave, but doesn’t want to. Somehow, these few hours in a random bed and breakfast have been the best Christmas Toby’s ever had.

She walks him to the door, and he’s not sure why. So he risks it.

“Hey, uh,” Toby nods at the wreath on the door. “It’s not mistletoe, but…”

“Oh, fine,” says Happy. The kiss is hard and fast, more of a power play by her than anything romantic, but it floods into his toes and he regrets the decision to leave for family Christmas.

“Merry Christmas,” Happy says as she pulls away, her hand still on the back of his neck.

Toby clears his throat, still a little disarmed from her lips. “Yeah,” he says, stepping away. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

When he gets to his dad’s house, he finds a card from the bed and breakfast in his pocket with everything crossed out and the name Happy written on it with a number.

“What’s that?” asks his little cousin Daniel.

Toby lets himself smile a little. “Proof of a pretty awesome Christmas.”


End file.
